by P. N. Elrod
“You’d kill him?”
“No, but I’d serve him as well as I served his poxy-faced cousin.”
“But Thomas wasn’t poxy,” she said thoughtfully. “In fact he’s . . . . Jonathan, what are you laughing about?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Even the most entertaining funeral must end sometime.
Those mourners who were not staying the night began to take themselves home, causing much bustling for the servants as they prepared things. New torches were lighted, carriages were brought around, farewells were exchanged and one by one the relatives departed, leaving Fonteyn House a bit roomier than before. Those who remained behind, from their reluctance to face the weather or because they lived too far away, were lodged in every likely and unlikely corner of the house.
Clarinda and Elizabeth oversaw things, each bringing her own expertise in organization to the problems that arose, from a shortage of blankets to what would be served to break the morning fast. My talents for such matters were sadly undeveloped, but I made myself useful directing people to this room or that, according to the list I’d been given.
After all were settled, I planned to return to Oliver’s house as usual, since my bed of earth was there. Thus would I be spared the task of having to influence a veritable army of servants into ignoring my own peculiar sleeping arrangements. Elizabeth’s duties required she stay at Fonteyn House since the day after Aunt Fonteyn’s death and would yet lodge here, this time with a roomful of other young women.
“How enviable,” I said lightly.
“You may think so, but they’re bound to talk until dawn, wanting to know all about you.”
“Be as discouraging as you can. The ones I’ve met always seem to think that any stray unmarried male is only interested in finding a wife.”
“I know, that’s been made abundantly clear to me since we started getting callers. The ladies coming by to see you outnumber the gentlemen paying respects to me by nine to four. Perhaps I should be jealous.”
“Blame the shortsightedness of the London men. There’s also the possibility that they may feel the same about marriage as I.”
“I think not, little brother, I’ve already gotten three proposals.”
“What?”
She laughed at my stricken expression. “One was from a mature lad of ten who was pleased with my face.”
“And the others?”
“Fortune-hunting cousins on the Fonteyn side of the family.”
Now didn’t that sound familiar? “What did you say?”
“I told them that my aunt’s funeral was hardly the place to be making marriage proposals.”
“But that’s not a proper refusal,” I said, worried. “They might be back.”
“Indeed they might,” she agreed. “One of them was rather handsome in a horsy sort of way. I wonder if he is descended from Cousin Bucephalus?”
“Good God, Elizabeth, you’re not seriously—”
“Certainly not, but I want to have some enjoyment of life while it’s still mine to enjoy. When I think of what a cheerless, bitter existence Aunt Fonteyn made for herself, I could weep at the waste and sadness of it.”
“After the awful things she’s said and done you can feel sorry for her?”
“Wounded animals, Jonathan,” she reminded me. “It’s not their fault that someone’s been cruel to them. With that in mind, it’s easy to understand how they might lash out at those who stray too close.”
“Does this mean you’ll form a more lenient attitude toward Mother?”
She made a wry face. “You do ask a lot, don’t you? I suppose I must then say yes, but then again, it’s easy for one to be tolerant when one’s source of irritation is several thousand miles away.”
“I’ll ask you again when she’s closer.”
“I’m sure you will.” Humor lurked in her dry tone, but I sensed that it was meant to cover some well-concealed low spirits.
“Are you going to be all right here?” I lifted a hand to indicate the vast house. “I can take you home, y’know.”
She shook her head decisively. “I’m fine. It’s not what I’m used to, but I don’t mind a little change now and then. Besides, I’m needed here. Poor Oliver’s going to feel the torments of hell when he wakes tomorrow, and I thought I’d try one of Dr. Beldon’s remedies on him.”
“And what would that be?”
“Tea with honey and mint. Better than moss snuff for his head, I’m sure.” She wilted a little. “I hope that they’re all right. Father and the others, I mean.”
“As do I, but I’m sure they are, so please don’t worry. You’ve had more than your share of it already. Getting on well with Clarinda?”
“Very well, thank you. She’s quite different from Edmond. I wonder how they ever got together.”
“Who knows?” I said with a shrug, not caring.
We said good night and I promised to be back soon after sunset tomorrow. Oliver’s new status as master of Fonteyn House required he remain in it for some time longer before returning to his own home. As I put on my cloak and wrapped up against the wind, I speculated whether he would forsake his other household and move back. For all the gloomy corners, it was still a fine big place, and he had promised changes. Heavens, he might even open the shutters and have carpenters put in more windows. That would make Grandfather Fonteyn spin in his coffin, and I could think of no one more deserving of the disturbance, unless it might be his eldest daughter. Unlike Elizabeth, I found it difficult to summon compassion for the wretched woman even if she was dead.
On my way out I saw Edmond and the unpleasant Arthur Tyne with their heads together by the main door. I hung back, wanting to avoid both of them. They were garbed for the weather, ready to leave; Edmond was probably headed home, the same as I. Perhaps he didn’t mind abandoning Clarinda to her own devices for now, not that anyone remained in the house to tempt her to an indiscretion. The guests were either too young or old, too married or the wrong gender for her, unless one wished to count Oliver. She might find him attractive, I knew, but on the other hand he was dead drunk and not likely to be of much use to her.
I fidgeted, wishing Edmond and Arthur would get on with themselves so I could depart. Perhaps I could just vanish and float past them. I’d planned to exercise myself in that manner on the trip home, providing the wind wasn’t too much of a nuisance.
“Jonathan?” A woman whispered from the darkness of the hall behind me, giving me a start.
I squinted against the shadows and made out her figure, then her face. “Clarinda?”
She remained in place, partially hidden, so I went to her. Reluctantly.
Edmond had only to look over and see me, and if he somehow recognized his wife’s form in the—
“What is it?” I whispered back, my neck hairs rising.
“I must talk with you.”
Oh, dear. Was this the prelude to another seduction to be consummated in some deserted room? “Well, I was just leaving, y’see—”
“This is important. I want only a minute. Please come away.”
Her tense tone hardly seemed appropriate for so delicate a thing as a carnal interlude. Perhaps the nearby threat of Edmond provided a cooling mitigation for her normally ardent nature.
With him discouragingly in mind, not to mention uncomfortably close, I cast a fearful look ’round, then followed her into the deeper darkness of the hall.
She made her way with frequent glances behind to make sure I was there. She tiptoed, swiftly, with her skirts barely making a whisper over the floor. Reluctant to draw any attention as well, especially Cousin Edmond’s, I imitated her example of being quiet. On the whole, this seemed a bad idea, but it’s usually best not to refuse a lady when she insists on having a talk.
So long as that’s all this one wanted.
We passed a number
of rooms, heading for the far reaches of the house, ultimately ending up in a too-familiar chamber. There was the same settee; the same bust of Aristotle (or one of the Caesars) rested on the mantel as before. The draperies were drawn owing to mourning, and this time the fireplace warmly blazed, but otherwise all was the same as it had been that Christmas when we’d shared a most happy and vigorous encounter here.
Johnny-boy, whatever are you letting yourself in for? I thought, but it took no real effort on my part to guess what she had in mind. Heavens, but this would be a serious exercise in diplomacy to make an escape without causing her offense.
She shut the door, turning to face me. Her manner was nervous, quite different from the randy, confident woman I’d known before. Something was wrong.
“What is it?” I asked.
Her gaze fixed on mine. “I must ask if Edmond has said anything to you.”
“About what?”
She gestured at the room. “What do you think? You do know why he hates you so, don’t you?”
“I assumed it was because he was aware of our, ah, past liaison.”
“Has he spoken to you about it?”
“No. Not one word.”
She seemed extremely relieved to hear it, slumping a bit. “That’s good. I saw him glaring so at you earlier, and then when he went upstairs to find out why Oliver was making such a row . . . well, I wasn’t sure what to think.”
“I’ve gotten nothing more than some hard looks from him. It’s obvious he doesn’t care for my company. Not that it really matters.”
“But it does,” she hissed. “He can be very dangerous, Jonathan.”
“I don’t doubt it, but he doesn’t worry me. Is that what troubles you? You think he might try to harm me?”
“Yes. He’s a difficult man and has a particular hatred for you over the other—the other young men I’ve known.” She watched my reaction. “Good. I’m glad you’re not going to go gallant and pretend you weren’t aware of them.”
She’d made mention of them herself once upon a time, but it seemed politic to say nothing. “I can only think that they are most fortunate that you should choose to grace them with your company.” The flattery that worked so well on Molly Audy had a similar effect on Clarinda; she broke into a winning smile. “You have a pleasant memory of me, then?”
“It is one of my treasures. I recall every moment of your most generous gift to me.”
“And to myself,” she added. “God, but you make me remember it afresh even now. You’ve grown even more handsome since. More muscle, too.” She gave herself a shake. “Back to business, Clarinda.”
“What business?” I asked. “A warning to stay out of Edmond’s way? I’m already keen to do just that, so you needn’t be troubled. But why does he hate me more than the others?”
She looked long at me, studying my face before finally giving an answer. “He hates you because I took a fancy to you that Christmas right here in this house, right under his nose. But I couldn’t help myself. He’d been perfectly beastly to me that day, and you were so sweet and kind and different. Oh, damn, this must sound as though I was with you just to spite him, but that’s not true. I wanted to be with someone I liked who liked me in return, as you seemed to.”
“Believe me, my affection was quite genuine. It’s not something a man can falsify.”
She arched a brow. “You’d be surprised, my dear, but bless you for saying so. As for your affection for me now . . . well, I sense that you’re somewhat more cautious these days.”
“It’s because of your being married.”
“Married to Edmond?”
“No, just married, period. It’s not in my nature to . . . .”
“Ah, I see. Fornication’s one thing, but adultery’s quite another?”
Her warm charm was such that I was not shocked by her bluntness. I had to laugh a little, for she said it so prettily. “That’s it, exactly.”
“You are such a sweet fellow. I see no real distinction between the two, myself, but can respect that you do.” She pushed from the door, going to the settee, sitting wearily. “Such a ghastly day it’s been. This is the first time I’ve had a bit of quiet for myself and enjoyable conversation with another. I hope I wasn’t too alarming when I lured you back here.”
“A bit mysterious, nothing more.”
“I had to be, what with Edmond in plain sight, but you were about to leave, and I wanted a word with you on this before you got away.”
“It couldn’t wait until a better time?”
“When might that be with this houseful? I had to act while the chance existed, while you were alone and no one else about to see and tell tales. Please say that you will be careful around him.”
“Most careful. He’s not likely to give challenge, is he?”
“No. Not that he’s a coward to dueling, but the scandal involved would be abhorrent to him. He’s very proper, y’ know”
That sparked a question in me. “Clarinda, if you would not mind my asking you something personal . . ..”
“After what we’ve shared here? What have I to hide? Ask away.”
“I was only wondering why you did . . . why you . . . that is, does Edmond not fulfill his duty toward you?”
She stared blankly a moment, then softly laughed. “Goodness, that is personal, but easily answered. The fact is that Edmond cares for me in his own fashion and I care for him in mine, but we are two extremely different people with different tastes and appetites. To be perfectly honest, the main reason we married was that he wanted a stronger connection within the family by fostering my elder son who is—I mean was Aunt Fonteyn’s pet nephew. For my own part, I wanted security and a father for my boy. Boys,” she corrected, flashing me a rueful look. “We’ve had a child since, y’know.”
“Yes, Oliver mentioned something of it, congratulations. But I thought your children were taken care of by Grandfather’s estate.”
“To a degree, but Edmond has friends throughout London who will help them when they’re grown. It’s not enough to have money, or do well at the right university; one must have influence and connections in society. But being in law yourself, you understand that.”
“Yes, I do have an idea on the importance of influence,” I said, smiling at my unnatural talent in that area.
“As for the interest I have in handsome young men, well, I just can’t seem to help myself. Edmond knew of it before our marriage and we talked about how we would conduct things afterward. He said he wouldn’t mind as long as I was discreet, but that didn’t last long. He tries not to be jealous, but sometimes he . . . .”
“He what? He doesn’t mistreat you, I hope?”
Her gaze suddenly dropped and she primly laced her fingers together. “No more than many other husbands with their wives.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Now, Jonathan, I must insist you stop there, as what goes on between us is not your business. He can be churlish, but I know how to handle him.” She still did not look at me.
After her warnings to me, I could only assume them to have been inspired by her direct experience with his temper. The idea of him harming her in any way was sickening. Perhaps I could arrange an interview with Edmond on the subject. A private little talk to spare Clarinda from future harm . . .. Yes, that appealed to me. On the other hand, if an alternative presented itself, it should also be explored. My influence, unless regularly reinforced, had its limitations.
“Can you not leave him? I mean, that is, if you don’t love him?”
She sighed and shook her head. “God have mercy, but you are so young and dear. You have no idea how complicated life can be for a woman.
“I’m not entirely ignorant. If you need a place to go, Oliver will gladly put you up here and protect you.”
She was shaking her head again. “No, no, no, it’
s impossible or I’d have done that ages ago with Aunt Fonteyn. I have to live the life I’ve got, but that’s all right, I’m happy enough. Besides, it’s not as bad as you seem to be imagining. He’s really decent most of the time, but the funeral has upset him greatly. I was thinking that with you here he might be tempted to do something rash.”
I again reassured her of my intent to avoid all trouble with Edmond.
“Then I shall be relieved on your account. I would feel awful if anything happened to you because of him.”
I bowed. “You flatter me with your concern.”
“Flatter? It’s more than flattery on my part. My dear, you have no idea of the depth of pleasure you’ve given me.”
“It was so brief, though.”
“But treasured, as you’ve said. Of course, we can always make another happy memory for ourselves . . . if you like.”
Oh, but did she not have a bewitching smile? I couldn’t help but feel that delightful stirring through my body as I looked at her. She’d not altered much, a little fuller of figure, but that just made more of her to explore. I wondered if her thighs were as white and silken as I remembered . . . .
Don’t be a fool, Johnny-boy.
It wasn’t just that she was married, though that was a major detraction; it was my change that made me hesitate over her invitation.
I could surge upon her here and now like a tide and bring her to a point where she wouldn’t notice my drinking from her until it was over. But then she’d want an explanation, and I wasn’t about to sit down and tell her my life’s story concerning Nora. Enough people knew already. No more.
Or I could make her forget about the blood-drinking part, but Clarinda deserved better treatment than that. It was different when I was with women like Jemma at The Red Swan; their favors were for sale and well paid for. To treat Clarinda in the same cavalier manner smacked of theft in a way. Certainly I was not comfortable with that idea.
Perhaps if there was a possibility of having an ongoing liaison with her as I’d had with Molly, I might then . . . .